An Angel In My Mind, A Devil In My Bed
by EitsrikR
Summary: Mag wasn't like most people. She stuck out, and now she's caught the attention of two completely different men. Already unsure of herself, Mag has a decision she's not sure she can make. Bruce/OC/Joker. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

She was happy to finally be coming home. She was so tired; sometimes her work was so exhausting. Right then, all she really wanted was to be in bed. She fumbled for her keys in her purse as the elevator dinged to announce that she had reached the second floor. She was so ready to just relax. She stepped out and walked over to her door. She was so close now, she couldn't wait to feel the comfort of her bed. She found her keys and was about to put them in the lock when the door flew open.

"Honey, I'm home!" the man announced as another man rushed out the door to grab her.

She barely had time to process what was going on. The man who greeted her was now laughing like a mad man. His high pitched laughter was unnerving. His laughter had a quality that was hard to put a name too. She was now held tightly by the man who had grabbed her. Her arms were pinned to her side by the arms her captor had wrapped around her. She struggled against the man who held her tight, he had dragged her over into the dining area of her apartment. She had loved having a whole floor to herself, but now she was regretting it. Then again she never really anticipated that she would be kidnapped in her own home.

"So nice of you to join our, uh, little party, Mag pie!" He cackled running the back of his hand against her cheek.

She looked at him; she was too afraid to speak at the moment. Their last meeting came to the front of her mind. She looked at him now. He stood in front of her, that same devious smile plastered on his face. His blonde hair, just the way she remembered: greasy and tinged green. His face was the same too: painted white with black circles around the eyes. His lips were painted red, and extending from the corners of his mouth, also painted red, were his bubbled, ragged scars.

She couldn't believe she was actually in this situation. She knew that she had caught his interest, but she never guessed it would've stuck. _What a mess_, she thought, _How'd __**I**__ get stuck in this situation_? She remembered that it all began with him. Her mind began to wander back to what had got her into this situation in the first place.

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><p>She was so nervous. This could be the show that got her somewhere. The show that could get her photos in magazines and out of the business of doing small time commission jobs. The reality of it was really starting to hit now that she was in the cab and on her way. This exhibit was for Gotham's most promising new artists. <em>Gotham's most promising artists isn't that a loaded statement<em>, she thought, but that's how it was advertised and promised for all who came to see. It was hosted by a prestigious art magazine in Gotham, and that meant other editors from fashion and art magazines were all going to be there along with all of Gotham's elite. The cab stopped just outside the tall skyscraper. The exhibit was being held at the magazine's head quarters on the top floor where they often showed art or had parties. She paid the cabby and got out. Before even entering the building, she took a deep breath to center herself.

She was there an hour before the show; the curator had asked all the artists to be there an hour early. It was an important event that was held annually, a big deal. She worked up the courage and walked in. She made her way to the elevator and got in. The elevator ride felt like forever. She took another breath as her floor came up.

The curator rushed up to her before the elevator door even had time to shut .

"That makes ten! Good! Everyone's here. Take this, wear it; it's so that everyone knows who you are." The curator handed the name tag attached to the lanyard before he started to speak again: "Now go find your exhibit and make sure everything is in order."

The gravity of the situation was really hitting her as she noticed how tense the curator was. She did as he told her and went to where her exhibit was located.

"Wow" she said quietly to herself walking through the space. It all looked so put together. She remembered how it looked a week ago when she came by, it was a mess then. Then she was there. She drank in the sight of her work against the wall. She couldn't believe it, it looked better than she had imagined. In the middle of the wall above her largest print, the title of her work was displayed: "The Destitute". It was a series of black and white photographs of homeless people and the places they frequented. All the pictures were different sizes and framed in gold, antiqued frames.

The time between then and the when the exhibition opened flew by. It felt like seconds to her. As the space began to fill with people she noticed that many people were stopping to look at her work in particular. It filled with such joy and pride. Some even stopped to talk to her about her work and how much they liked it. The time was passing so fast.

The night was half over when she was talking to the editor of a highly acclaimed art magazine that she noticed him staring at her.


	2. Something Different

**Chapter 2:**

He wasn't too thrilled about going to this art thing. He never really had a taste for art, but he didn't hate it either. Besides, he was a Wayne; he had to go if only just to keep up appearances. He might even enjoy himself. He arrived late, but it wasn't long after he arrived that he noticed her.

She was beautiful, but that wasn't the only thing that caught his attention. She was different than anyone else in the room. He couldn't put a name to it, but it was definitely there. At first he thought it was just her appearance that set her apart. The way she was dressed wasn't like most people. She was quite short, which made her seem quite young, but she had a very womanly shape. It was an odd mix that was even more oddly attractive. Her hair was an odd purple-red color and curly like a porcelain doll. _No, that's not it either_; he thought to himself, _there's something else about her._

He didn't know how long he had been staring; it must have been a while because now she was looking back at him. He was caught. He thought the best thing would be to just go over and introduce himself instead of avoid her all night, and he didn't mind getting the chance to.

He put his most charming smile on his face and started to walk over. He grabbed a drink off a tray as he made his way over, noticing that she wasn't holding one. Just as he reached her the woman she was talking to previously walked away.

"You looked kinda thirsty from back there, so I thought I'd bring you this" He said with a smile, handing the drink to her.

"I wasn't thirsty at all actually, and if I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to get me a little tipsy so you can charm me."She smiled back at him. He was taken aback a little, but just laughed it off. Looking down at her Bruce realized just how short she was. He was sure he had almost a foot of height on her. He extended his hand for a hand shake.

"I'm-"

"Bruce Wayne. I know." He chuckled. She put her hand in his. Her grip was very light and delicate; her hands were soft and small.

"I guess it would be harder not to know my name in this town."

"That's very true Mr. Wayne, but do you know what my name is?" She asked.

"Of course, you're Magdalene Crow." He said as he looked down to the name tag that hung on the lanyard around her neck. She laughed.

"Yeah, that's me, but please, call me Mag or Maggie. You can call me anything else really."

"Magdalene is a very uncommon name, but it's nice."

"I don't think Bruce is a very common name either, Mr. Wayne."

Now it was his turn to laugh.

"Please call me Bruce. So, this must be your work," he said indicating the pictures that hung on the wall behind her, "The Destitute, huh? Are these actual homeless people?"

She looked back at the pictures on the wall.

"Yeah, actually they are. I spent a little over a year searching the Narrows for some of the people in the photos."

He noticed how her face lit up as she was talking.

"Really, you spent a lot of time in the Narrows just to take some of these? That sounds a little dangerous."

"Well, Bruce," she put some emphasis on his name, "The people in these photos live on the streets in the Narrows, I think I could bare to spend a little time there just to tell the world their story."

He admired her and liked her instantly. There was definitely something about her that set her apart from everyone.

"I guess I just never thought about it that way." Bruce recovered with a smile. She chuckled looking down into her glass.

"Most people don't, but that's why I did this." She said holding out her arm as if she was presenting the pictures. This time Bruce really looked at the photographs. They were actually really good. He felt her eyes on him. He looked back down at her to see her smiling up at him.

"Shouldn't you be getting back to your dates? All four of them, I think I saw?" She asked with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"I'm sure they won't miss me too much."

Bruce and Mag spent the rest of the night talking to each other, and Bruce was right, his dates didn't miss him. The exhibit was nearing its end. Bruce really enjoyed her company, so it was when they were saying good bye that he decided to make his move.

"Well, it looks like they're kicking us out, so I guess it's time to say good bye. Good bye Bruce Wayne, it was a pleasure." She offered her hand out for him to shake.

"I was hoping that maybe this wouldn't have to be good bye. Maybe I could, uh, get your number?" Mag noticed that the smile on his face had a nervous hint to it.

"I guess I could give you my number."A smile spread over her face as she entered her number into the phone he handed to her.

"See you some other time then, Bruce." He watched her as she walked away. There was definitely something different about her.

* * *

><p>She opened her eyes to a bright, Sunday morning. The sunlight filtered in through her window illuminating her room. She looked over to the alarm clock. 11:30, it read. <em>That's odd I never sleep this late, but then again I didn't sleep much last night.<em> She sat up in bed and grabbed her phone. "One missed call: Lily" She let out a sigh. _Of course she called._ Lily was Mag's best friend. They had known each other for five years; ever since Mag had moved to Gotham. Mag figured she should call her back. She dialed the number, and it wasn't long before Lily picked up.

"Hey, I called you earlier." Lily answered.

"I know, I slept in today."

"So how was the show on Friday? Anything exciting happen, hm? Meet any men?"

"It was great, and I did meet someone actually. And I have date set for Wednesday too." Bruce had called her yesterday, and asked her out.

"Oh! Spill it, who's it with? Is he attractive?"

"You're never gonna believe me."

"Try me." Lily challenged.

"He's Bruce Wayne."

"Nooo! Really? You're not joking are you?"

"No I'm not. He's taking me to The Ocelot."

"I hear he owns that place. So are you going to tell him?"

"No, I don't think he needs to know just yet." Mag's replied.

They only stayed on the phone a few minutes longer, but the conversation made Mag think. How would the famous Bruce Wayne react to her secret? She wasn't going to tell him on their first date, but she knew she'd have to tell him sooner or later.

* * *

><p>Also the first few chapters are set in the past, but will eventually catch up to where the story initially started. These chapters are just set up for the interesting things to take place, and will focus mainly on Bruce.<p>

Please Review! Even if you didn't like it just say what you didn't like about it. (plot, content, whatever). If you did like it let me know too. I'm new to this so constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated! Please just review it.


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